Belonging to the same equivocal species of association with the grave, and by no means to be commended for its admixture of the _quaint_ with the solemn, is the following “musician’s epitaph,” from whence gotten, I am unable to say:— Ah! what avails, when wrapped in shroud and pall, Who jigged, who fiddled, or who sang the best? What are to _me_ the crotchets, quavers, all, When I have found an everlasting _rest_? _Fifty Years’ Fiddling._—“An interesting jubilee was lately kept here (Mannheim). The scholars of our venerable Orchestra Director, M. Erasmus Eisenmenger, now in his 70th year, met to celebrate the fiftieth year of his life spent as an artist. It is worthy of remark that he played, in the _same_ musical saloon, the _same_ concerto on the violin that he had executed fifty years ago—as well as a double concerto of Viotti, which he played with his pupil, Chapel-master Frey, with a spirit and vigour quite wonderful at his age.” (_Harmonicon_, 1830.)—[The curious in coincidences ought to be informed whether it was also the _same fiddle_, as formerly, that was thus eloquent in the hands of the worthy old gentleman.] _Another fifty years of it!_—Teobaldo Gatti, a native of Florence, died at Paris in 1727, at a very advanced age, after having been, for rather more than half a century, a performer on the _bass-viol_ in the orchestra of the Opera there. Is it possible to be more completely identified with one’s instrument? _Glory made out of Shame._—A stranger, visiting Greenwich Hospital, saw a pensioner in a yellow coat, which is the punishment for disorderly behaviour. Surprised at the singularity of the man’s appearance, he asked him what it meant? “Oh, sir,” replied the fellow, “we who wear yellow coats are the _music_, and it is I who play the _first fiddle_.” (_Hawkins’s anecdotes._) _Discrimination._—“Gentlemen,” said an auctioneer, addressing the bargain-hunters by whom his sale-room was crammed—“the next lot is a very fine-toned violin.”—“_A violin_, sir!” exclaimed his clerk, in surprise—“You must have made some mistake, sir,—the next lot is _the fiddle_!”